


Benny's Crêpe Café

by Scribe



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:15:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1706093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribe/pseuds/Scribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scenes from an AU in which Fraser and the Rays operate food trucks in Chicago, Fraser fights injustice (mostly offscreen), and everybody falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Seascribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seascribe/gifts).



[](http://s13.photobucket.com/user/OmniBook/media/c838f772-cda8-4b3b-84c9-e33ac966616c.jpg.html)

No offense or infringement intended to the actual Benny's Crepe Cafe, which I'm sure is a lovely business with wonderful food. However, walking by their food truck every day made me desperately need a due South AU.

 

After much brainstorming and discussion (thanks to everybody who contributed!), what resulted are scenes from a larger universe rather than an entire story, because I don't actually know anything about food trucks and really getting the OT3 together seemed more important, anyway. Here are the universe notes:

 

Ray Kowalski is a mechanic (of course, it's an AU, he has to be a mechanic.) When Stella divorced him he had a midlife crisis, quit his job, and got a deep-dish pizza truck instead. He's not really all that good at it, but he likes it and it's something to do.

The Vecchios own a restaurant, probably called "Vecchio's", which is pretty cheap and low quality, they sell some kind of crappy Italian pastries but mostly they're famous for having a million flavors of Italian ice. They also have a food truck that only sells Italian ice, which is mostly RayV's job in the warmer months, though occasionally Frannie will take it over.

Bob Fraser owned a little local crepe shop somewhere in Canada, but was put out of business when IHOP moved to town. Fraser is determined to start it up again as a food truck (though why he's doing this in Chicago I have no idea). I'm not sure if Bob is actually dead or just absent in this story. Maybe dead, because the idea of him ghosting around the food truck giving Fraser vague and mystical advice about how to flip crepes or something cracks me up.


	2. Chapter 2

Fraser first shows up in April, at the very beginning of the season. Vecchio goes over and introduces himself right away, or rather he introduces Fraser, saying,

"Benny's Crepe Café, huh? So you must be Benny. Ray Vecchio, nice to meet you."

Ray grits his teeth, overhearing them. What a Vecchio thing to do, denying the guy a chance to give his own name. Maybe he's not Benny, maybe Benny's his dog or his kid or his business partner or something. Ray has a lot of sympathy for people who get forced into names they don't want.

Sympathy doesn't mean he likes the guy, though. Vecchio can afford to be friendly; having a food truck nearby actually increases his business, because when people hang out and eat they want dessert. To Ray, though, Fraser's direct competition. He's barely scraping by as it is, he doesn't need to lose half his customers to some glorified Canadian burrito stand. So he waits a couple weeks before he checks it out too closely, keeping an eye on how much of the line Fraser's drawing and which of the permit spots he seems to favor.

When he does introduce himself he does it right, which is how he learns that A) Fraser prefers to go by Fraser, so screw you, Vecchio, and B) even if Fraser is going to steal half his business he's gonna make up for it by being the best eye candy ever. He also learns about how Benny's Crepe Café really is named after him, his mother's nickname from when he was very young and his father was toiling away to open the original crepe shop. Apparently Fraser's determined to stand up against the big corporations and fast food that muscled his dad out of the business. It should sound ridiculous, but Fraser is so damn sincere (and seriously, so, so pretty) that when Ray opens his mouth to tell him that he's nuts he somehow ends up inviting Fraser to the elementary school cafeteria that they all rent out by night to do their prep work. 

"Thank you, Ray, that would be lovely," says Fraser. Ray's pretty sure he can here Vecchio snort from two trucks down, but he doesn't turn around.

 

It's not like any of them are going to turn down another body to split the rent between, and there's plenty of room in the cafeteria. Fraser installs himself in the corner across from Ray. Technically that means that the guys from Huey & Louis should be between them, but they mostly grill on their truck, so all that's really there is the big freezer where they store their hot dog and hamburger shipment. It means Ray can sneak glances at Fraser whenever he wants. It starts taking him a good half an hour longer to chop up all his toppings and start his dough every night, but he doesn't really mind the distraction. It's not like he's got anywhere else to be.

Fraser works efficiently, putting away each ingredient and piece of cookware after he uses it. He's not so focused that he can't carry on a conversation, though, and prep nights quickly become Ray's favorite thing, never mind that they mean chopping until his hands feel numb and his feet aching after a day in the truck and the awful, awful smell of Dewey the fishsticks guy hanging over everything. 

He teaches Fraser about pizza, about Chicago and food trucks and all the tricks of the trade that he's got, and Fraser tells stories about Canada or tries to rally them for a sit-in protest against the new permit restrictions. Ray doesn't go, but only because he can't actually afford to miss a couple days' revenue. Elaine from Salads'n'Wraps tells him the story afterward; sounds like fun, but not very effective.

Fraser's always doing stuff like that, though. 

"We have to stand up to the big corporations," he says one day. "The entire ideal of food trucks will be lost otherwise. All of these new chains, they'll give you something to eat, but it's all exactly the same, mass produced. There's nothing personal in it. That's what we have to fight for, that's what food trucks are all about- the artistry of the work, and the way it's an avenue for real human connection."

Ray trades a skeptical look with Elaine. In his experience, that is not even slightly what food trucks are about. Food trucks are about something quick and cheap and probably not that good, but kind of convenient. Food trucks basically are fast food, just slightly more mobile so you don't actually have to walk a mile to the nearest McDonald's. 

The weirdest thing, though, is that Fraser actually makes it work. He really does spend the time crafting individual orders, getting to know each of his customers. It means you have to stand on line for his truck forever, but apparently people think it's worth it to have the crepe guy inquire about the health of your dog with complete sincerity while he whips up your lunch. It's like some kind of weird Canadian magic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have skipped forward over some plot. Fraser is obviously very involved in fighting for Food Truck Justice, whatever that entails. In the course of this fight somebody sabotages his truck. Ray and Ray have to help him. RayK fixes the truck with his mechanic skillz, but all the refrigeration and stuff was out for long enough that Fraser has a huge amount of work to do to get back on track.

It's late when Ray finally gets the truck running again. The elementary school parking lot is deserted except for his truck and Fraser's, and Vecchio's car, which is parked with the headlights on so Ray can see what he's doing. He wipes off his hands before he opens the door to turn them off. Vecchio would have an aneurism if he got oily fingerprints all over it, which might be kind of fun, but the Riv is too gorgeous to be collateral in a scheme like that. Besides, there's no reason at all that Vecchio has to be here- he doesn't even use the prep space, just brings whatever he doesn't sell back to the restaurant- but he's helping Fraser out, and that gets him a pass for the day.

Ray's still got his own prep to do, even though it's nearly ten-thirty, so he trudges back inside. The kitchen seems quiet with just the three of them. Vecchio's got his head in the fridge, pulling out fruits and vegetables, and Fraser's measuring ingredients for batter. Ray washes his hands and heads over to his own station, where, fuck, he's got so many toppings to chop for tomorrow.

"Truck's up and running," he says, trying to scrape grease off his hands before he actually handles people's food.

'Thank you, Ray," says Fraser gravely. "I can't tell you how much this means to me. Just let me know what I owe you for reimbursement. I don't have a good sense of the going rate of vehicle repair, or I'd make you an offer-"

"Don't sweat it," Ray tells him. "No payment necessary. We've gotta stick together against the big guys, right? Food trucks of Chicago unite?"

Vecchio snorts again, brushing by Ray to find a cutting board for his pile of produce. Ray doesn't elbow him, but he figures that uses up the last of the good will Vecchio's earned from chipping in tonight. The next thing he does Ray is not going to ignore.

As it turns out, the next thing that Vecchio does is impossibly to ignore, and not in the way Ray would have predicted. What he does is take the cutting board back over to Fraser's workspace and calmly, casually, start to dice up all the fillings, lightening-quick and fluid like a tv chef. Ray stares, mesmerized. There's something arresting about the sight of Vecchio's long, graceful fingers wrapped easily around the knife, the way the movement makes his sleeve fall back to expose his wrist, rising and falling in perfect rhythm. Ray can't tear his eyes away. He really, really wishes that he wasn't this attracted to someone who's a total jerk, but wishing hasn't done anything to get rid of the attraction over the last two years, so he doesn't have a lot of hope that it's going to work now.

"How on earth did you learn to do that?" he demands.

"Do what?"

"I believe Ray is referring to your knife-handling skills. I wasn't aware that the Italian Ice business required such precision," says Fraser. His voice sounds a little odd, kind of distant. Ray looks over at him and oh, woah, Fraser is staring at Vecchio's hands too, a faint flush creeping up his cheeks. Wow. Well, that answers some questions.

Vecchio's watching his cutting board, thank goodness, and doesn't seem to notice either of them being stupidly obvious.

"I used to work as a line cook at Zuko's," he says, tipping the board up and scraping a mound of neatly-diced rhubarb into one of Fraser's pots. Ray whistles. Zuko's is quality; he and Stella had gone there for a couple of anniversary dinners, back when they still did things like that.

"Seriously?" he says. "You gave up cooking at Zuko's to drive an Italian ice truck?"

"Not voluntarily," says Vecchio shortly, and stabs into an apple with more force than strictly necessary.

There's a tense silence. Ray watches Vecchio neatly trim out the apple core.

"I've never been to Zuko's, so I don't know what opportunities would have been afforded to you there," says Fraser finally, "but whatever transpired, I'm glad it brought you here. I'm very glad for both your product and your company."

"Thanks, Benny," says Vecchio, his voice softening. The two of them smile at each other.

Ray turns back to his prep work, hacking at vegetables without even a hint of Vecchio's grace. Who wants broccoli on a pizza, anyway? His customers, that's who. For reasons that defy all explanation.


	4. Chapter 4

A few days later, Fraser ducks out of his truck during the mid-afternoon lull and walks over to Ray's, carrying what looks like a medium-sized notebook. 

"Is this a good time?" he asks, even though there's really obviously no one but Ray there. Sandor had even stopped to chat with Fraser on his way home after the lunch rush- Ray'd seen him- so he's got no clue who Fraser's expecting to be interrupting.

"Good as any," he says, bracing his elbows on the counter and leaning over. "What's up? Want a slice of pizza?"

"Not today, thank you. I actually have a small proposal for you."

"Okay," says Ray, fully expecting it to be some kind of anti-corporation rally or maybe a city hall meeting that Fraser wants him to go to. Instead, Fraser, flips open the notebook and sets it on the counter, spinning it around so Ray can see.

"Since you won't take payment for helping with my truck, I thought maybe I could help you with yours in return. I know you've been talking about repainting. Perhaps I could help? I've been told I’m a passable artist."

Ray's only half-listening to him, flipping through the pages. It's got drawing after drawing of Ray's truck, different design ideas for logos and pictures and menus and names, anything you could want on the side of a vehicle. 

"They're nothing much, just a few ideas I had. Of course if you have something in particular you prefer I can draw it out if you describe it to me, I don't mean to impose-"

"Shut up, Fraser," says Ray absently. "These are amazing. I don't even know how to pick which one I like best."

"Well, I rather like the arced text, myself," says Fraser, looking pleased. He flips forward a few pages and points to a particular sketch.

"Oh, yeah, that's awesome," Ray tells him. "You're the best. I never would've gotten around to this on my own, and even if I had it wouldn't have been half as good."

Right now the truck is just white, the way he bought it, with the word "Pizza" painted along one side. Nobody has ever accused Ray of being an artist.

"You're right, I think the arc text one is my favorite so far..." says Ray, the words trailing off as he turns one too many pages. Behind the food trucks are two drawings of Vecchio.

On the left, taking up most of the page, is an image that could be down the street from them right now. Fraser's drawn Vecchio leaning out of his truck, elbows on the counter, just like Ray's standing. He's mid-conversation with a customer who's just a few sketched lines, like all of Fraser's attention has gone to capturing the way Vecchio gestures as he talks, sketching something in the air with the ice cream scoop he's still holding, the way his button-down shirt is rolled just so above his elbows and open one too many buttons at the top, where Fraser's made the sun glint off the edge of the crucifix that Ray probably shouldn't know is a permanent part of Vecchio's wardrobe.

On the right is a close-up sketch of Vecchio's face, perfectly detailed and utterly lifelike, from the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes to the slight shading of stubble just starting along his jaw, like it does at the end of a long summer night when they've all stayed out late for the concert-in-the-park crowd. 

Ray slams the book closed as soon as he processes what he's seeing.

"Ah," says Fraser, and nothing else, no excuses or explanations, just stands there looking steadily at Ray over the top of the closed sketchbook. Ray can't quite meet his eyes. God, and people say he wears his heart on his sleeve.

The silence stretches. Ray can hear Vecchio laughing with a customer down the street.

"Uh, thanks for the mock-ups," he manages. 

"Of course," says Fraser.

"Lemme think about it, I'll let you know which one I like best tonight," Ray jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "I gotta, uh, ovens," he says nonsensically, and flees.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skip forward again, to a point after Vecchio and Fraser have taken up together.

One of the unspoken rules of food trucks is that they all feed each other. No matter how much you like whatever you're peddling, eating your own food gets old fast when it's the same five menu items for every meal, every day. You don't get first pick at anybody else's truck, but there's always something that's overstocked or about to spoil or that some impatient customer ordered and walked away from, and they all eat at the same weird, off-set hours between mealtimes, when business is slow.

Vecchio's a little different because he doesn't actually carry food, but Ray doesn't mind swapping him a slice of pizza for a squeeze-cup of whatever he's got left at the end of the day, especially once the weather gets hot. So it's only natural that Ray keeps an eye on Vecchio's flavor selection. After two years, he's actually got a little superstition built up around it. Not that he's the kind of guy who's really into fortune cookies and palm reading and stuff, but you can't argue with evidence, and it's just the truth that watermelon Italian ice leads to bad days, and lemon-lime to things being average, and orange to probably something good happening. 

Vecchio's got pineapple on the list today, which is top of the line, a sign that it's probably going to be the best day ever. Pineapple is Ray's favorite flavor, but apparently nobody else likes it, because it always sells slower than just about everything else. Vecchio's usually got enough left by the end of the day that he'll give Ray two whole squeeze-cups. He doesn't know why Vecchio hasn't wised up and cut it from the truck's rotating menu altogether, considering how much profit it's probably costing him, but Ray's sure as hell not gonna point it out.

So today should be a good day, but the pineapple definitely hasn't born out its promise by the time he's closing up for the evening. It's just small stuff: a late start, not as many customers as he'd like, he runs out of small change right in the middle of the lunch rush, and Fraser's apparently decided to check out the knot of food trucks that always congregates around the hospital so Ray doesn't even get to chat with him while things are slow. Vecchio's doing a booming business, probably because it's disgustingly hot. He'll probably stay out a couple more hours- it's not like he needs to prep for tomorrow, and anyway people will keep buying Italian Ice late into the night, long past when anyone's looking for dinner. He's probably even going to sell all his pineapple.

By the time Ray's closing down for the night he's starting to think his flavor barometer is out of whack. To top it all off, he can hear Vecchio flirting aggressively with his current customer, a tall woman in jogging gear. They all do it sometimes; hell, Fraser's got an entire file folder full of phone numbers written on napkins and receipts, because he's a freak who thinks that throwing away someone's contact information is impolite. Ray made some comment about being jealous one time and Fraser offered to give him some of the numbers, because apparently _that's_ not impolite. 

Like he said, freak.

Anyway, it's not that Ray's mad about the flirting on principal, but he really can't stand the fact that Vecchio _hasn't stopped doing it_. Like it's not enough that Vecchio's never looked twice at him, not enough that he reeled Fraser right in without lifting a finger, he has to act like what he's got doesn’t even matter. He doesn't even reign in the flirting when Fraser's parked right next to him all day. If it was anybody else Ray'd give him the benefit of the doubt and think maybe it just wasn't a serious thing they were doing, but he's seen Fraser's drawings- he's seen the look on Fraser's face when Ray discovered the drawings- and there's no way Fraser isn't serious.

So that's all to say that when Vecchio comes over to boast about getting the jogger lady's phone number, Ray's just about ready to punch him in the face.

"What?" asks Vecchio, interrupting his own bragging when he sees Ray's expression. He's still holding the napkin with the number on it in the air, paused mid-wave. 

"You are such a pig, Vecchio. What the hell is wrong with you? You think Fraser just doesn't care about you whoring yourself out to your customers all day?"

Vecchio blinks at him.

"Why would _Fraser_ care? It's not like he doesn't pick up six times as many numbers as you and me combined."

"Yeah, but you know he only takes them to be polite, he doesn't do anything to encourage it. He's Fraser, obviously he's gonna turn heads."

"Well, yeah," says Vecchio, looking confused. "So some of us have to work for it a little, what's your problem with that? I'd say it means I've got a better chance, you know, since maybe she actually likes me for my personality instead of just being a Canadian Ken doll."

Ray's so mad he has to bang on the counter a couple times before he can get his brain to spit out the words he wants in the right order.

"So what, Vecchio, you gonna call her? You gonna sleep with her? Because I'll tell you right now, maybe Fraser's the type who'd never say a word about it, but I swear to god if you break his heart I will break your _face_."

Vecchio doesn't look very intimidated. He looks kind of bewildered for a second, and then he starts laughing. Ray slams both fists down on the counter with a bang, which makes Vecchio get himself under control.

"Let me get this straight," he says. "You think Fraser and I are dating?"

He sounds like he thinks it's a preposterous idea. Ray, off-balance, goes back over the available evidence in his head.

"Are you gonna tell me you're just fuck buddies or something? Because I do not believe that, not from Fraser."

"We're not anything!" says Vecchio, throwing his hands in the air. "I don't know how you got this idea!"

"Vecchio, you come to prep all the time even though you don't have anything to do, just so he can go home with you, and you drive in together like four days a week."

"That's 'cause he's living with me!"

Ray gives Vecchio a look.

"Not like that, jesus. He just didn't have anywhere else to go. The guy was sleeping in his truck, did you know that? Talk about a health inspection disaster waiting to happen."

Ray hadn't known that, actually, and he feels kind of like a terrible friend. He'd known Fraser was struggling a little, but then again, weren't they all? He'd had no idea it was that bad, though. Why hadn't Fraser said something? Why hadn't he noticed?

"Ha, me and Fraser," Vecchio's saying. "As if he'd ever settle like that, Christ, have you seen the guy?"

Ray can't quite pull together an answer to that- yes, he has seen Fraser, but what's more he's seen the way Fraser looks at Vecchio. 

"Sorry," he says instead, awkwardly. "Guess I shouldn't have jumped down your throat."

"That's okay. I would've been mad at me too, if I thought what you thought." Vecchio shrugs, tucking the jogger lady's phone number into his pocket. "Hey, you want some Italian ice? No way am I gonna sell out the pineapple tonight."

"Sure," says Ray, and watches Vecchio go around to his own truck and come back with not one but two whole squeeze-cups of pineappley deliciousness. He plunks them down on the counter, leaning against it sideways so he can see if he gets any business. 

"Thanks," says Ray. "I'll owe you one, I'm already packed up for the night."

"Don't worry about it." Vecchio swipes a drip off the side of one of the squeeze-cups and sticks his finger in his mouth. Ray tries really hard not to watch him suck on it.

"So, you really thought me and Fraser were together?" says Vecchio. "What, were you jealous you'd missed your chance?"

And Ray should laugh it off, he should, but there's something in the air that's setting his instincts jangling, and even though he hasn't had time to figure out what it means yet he's always been an act-first, think-later kind of guy.

So he just says,

"Yeah, actually," as steadily as he can, and looks Vecchio square in the eye.

"Oh," says Vecchio, sounding kind of off-balance. "Really?"

Ray shrugs, like, what can you do?

Vecchio blinks at him, looks down and back up again. "Well," he says finally. "We're definitely not dating. So you should, you know, go for it. If you still want to."

It's Ray's turn to stare. That really, really sounded like Vecchio inviting him to make a move. And the thing is, maybe Vecchio and Fraser aren't actually together, but he knows how Fraser feels about Vecchio, and it sure as hell sounds like Vecchio isn't going to turn Fraser down, so maybe this is his only chance. And Vecchio- well, after the divorce he looked at a lot of people, but for some reason Vecchio was the first person he actually _saw_.

So he steels himself, leans out, and kisses Vecchio, right there on the sidewalk by the park with the evening crowds walking by.

It's a really weird angle. He has one hand braced on the counter next to his Italian ice and the other on Vecchio's shoulder, tugging him in, and he has to lean all the way out and down because he's in the truck, even though they're actually the same height. 

Vecchio startles, pulling away so fast that Ray has to catch himself on the counter. They stare at each other for a second.

"Really?" says Vecchio, looking almost comically surprised.

"You said to go for it," says Ray.

"Oh," says Vecchio. "I, uh, I meant go for Fraser. When you said you were jealous, I thought you were jealous of me."

Ray doesn't even know how to begin to answer that. He's still trying to come up with something to say when salvation appears in the form of a guy with three little kids in tow, inspecting the menu on the side of Vecchio's truck.

"You've got customers," he says, and Vecchio glances over and mutters something in Italian that Ray would bet isn't polite.

"Don't you dare go anywhere," he says sharply. "You hear me, Kowalski? Don't move."

He jogs back over to his own truck. As soon as he turns away Ray slams the window shut and then the back doors, hoping the kids take a long time to decide what they want, and squeezes into the front seat. He thinks he can hear Vecchio yelling after him as he pulls out into traffic, but maybe he's imagining it.

He only remembers his pineapple Italian ice when he turns a corner and it slides off the counter and onto the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

Of course, Ray can't avoid Vecchio forever. Even if he changes all his selling spots, which would be a pretty terrible business decision, Vecchio still knows how to find him at the elementary school. He actually considers skipping prep for the night and just going home, but no prep means no product tomorrow, and he can't actually afford to miss a day if he doesn't absolutely have to. Instead he just tries to get it done as fast as he can.

It's a lost cause; Vecchio shows up barely half an hour later, early enough that he beats everybody but Ray and Elaine. 

"Kowalski," he calls, leaning in the doorway of the cafeteria and crossing his arms.

"I'm busy," Ray tells him, pointedly not looking up.

"You wanna have this conversation here? It's up to you."

Ray glares at him. Elaine looks way too interested, though, so he doesn't really have much of a choice.

"Fine," he says, sticks a cutting board over the top of his bowl of peppers, and follows Vecchio out into the hall.

"I can't believe you," Vecchio says. "How hard is 'stay right here'? It was all of three minutes. Even my niece can do 'sit there, don't move', and she's five. Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you can't even listen as well as a five-year-old. It is you, after all."

This takes them down past a few darkened classrooms to where another hallway branches off in a T-shape. Vecchio pulls him around the corner, so they're out of the direct line of sight of the cafeteria, backs him against the wall, and kisses him.

It turns out that Vecchio is a really good kisser when he's not busy being shocked. Ray's the one who's shocked this time, but no way is he pulling away. He waits until Vecchio lets him up for air and then manages,

"But I thought-"

"You think maybe you should stop making assumptions, Kowalski?" says Vecchio, raising his eyebrows.

Ray thinks about this for maybe half a second.

"Yeah, okay," he says, and goes for Vecchio's shirt buttons. Vecchio catches his wrists before he even gets one undone, though, and pulls his hands away.

"Maybe not here?" he suggests, ducking his head to murmur it right against Ray's ear. 

"You have somewhere else in mind?" Ray asks. Vecchio's still hanging onto his wrists, which is fine, it's greatness, but it's also making it kind of hard to form sentences. 

"Well-"

"Because your shirt buttons have been taunting me for two solid years, Vecchio, don't tell me I can't have at them."

"You are so weird," says Vecchio, but he drops one of Ray's wrists to test the nearest door- open- and drags him in.

It's evidently a little-kid classroom, because in the dim light he can make out miniature chairs stacked on miniature tables, shelves of picture books, crates of toys. Vecchio has him against the wall again, next to an alphabet poster.

"We're doing this here?" Ray asks, though he doesn't have any qualms about reaching for Vecchio's shirt again. 

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Well, no, but doesn't this seem a little creepy to you? I just don't really like associating sex with little kids, if you know what I mean."

"Kowalski," says Vecchio, apparently at the end of his patience. "Shut up."

"Make me."

It's pretty dark in the room, but the window panel in the door lets in just enough light for Ray to see the little half-smile on Vecchio's face, the assessing tilt of his head.

"All right," he says.

 

So yeah, this is gonna be awesome.

 

Ray figures he's got a pretty good excuse for not noticing the footsteps coming down the hall, what with how Vecchio's got a hand going slow-slow-slow on his dick and everything, but there's definitely no missing the sound of the door opening a couple feet to his right.

"Ah, I was wondering where you two had-" says Fraser, and stops abruptly.

The three of them stand there in a long, long silence. It's not like it isn't obvious what they're doing; Ray's managed to get Vecchio's shirt open, though not off, and there's also the matter of Vecchio's hand down Ray's pants. And Vecchio hasn't backed off, either, isn't letting Ray up off the wall, just paused for a moment, looking at Fraser.

Fraser's standing stock-still. Ray really, really wishes he could see Fraser's face, but the light from the hallway makes him nothing more than a dark silhouette. The sounds of the cafeteria filter into his awareness, the far-off clink of pans and Dewey laughing at something.

The three of them just stand there, and stand there. Ray swallows hard.

"In or out, Fraser, but shut the door," he says. His voice sounds weird, breathless, even to his own ears.

Vecchio glances at him, then back up at the silhouette of Fraser, still unmoving.

"Benny," he says, and there's nothing wrong with _his_ voice, "pick in."

Fraser takes a very slow step forward, and very slowly closes the door behind him. Ray wants to let out a sigh of relief when the latch clicks, but that's the instant Vecchio picks to start moving his hand again, and Ray ends up with this choked-off moaning noise instead that sounds way too loud in the quiet classroom.

Fraser comes over to them, not saying anything, and Vecchio does this thing where he sort of moves off and to the side, putting his body at an angle to Ray's, so- oh, so Fraser can see. And Fraser's turned so he's in the light, now, and Ray can see that he is watching, that both of them are standing there watching him pant against the wall like Vecchio's showing him off for Fraser or something, and if this isn't the hottest thing that's ever happened to him it's only because Stella was a hell of a daredevil at seventeen. 

"Can I-" says Fraser.

"Anything you want," says Ray. Fraser takes a step toward him, slow- everything is slow, Vecchio's hand is still slow, too, not enough to actually get him anywhere, just making him insane- and what Fraser wants is apparently just to touch Ray's face, to run his fingers over Ray's cheek and down along his jaw, and Fraser is a certifiable weirdo if that's his idea of sex but Ray doesn't even care, just Fraser touching him at all with that intent, careful look on his face, all focused on Ray, that's amazing.

Then Fraser turns and says,

"Ray,"

And Vecchio says, "Yeah,"

And the two of them are kissing, easy as anything. Ray kind of wants to watch it forever. They're going slow, too, but not chaste; Fraser's got his hands under Vecchio's open shirt and Vecchio's got his free hand in Fraser's hair, and goddamn can Vecchio multitask because he speeds up the hand on Ray at the same time, just a little bit, but it's enough that Ray has to tilt his head back against the wall and concentrate really hard on not making too much noise. 

"Mm," says Fraser, pulling back. "Perhaps this isn't the best place for this?"

"Yeah, that's what Kowalski said," says Vecchio, sounding just like his usual bitchy self, not at all like he's been casually jerking Ray off while he makes out with Fraser. How does he _do_ that?

"Well, you have to admit, it's not exactly well-appointed for this sort of thing. And I suspect public decency laws may come into it as well," says Fraser.

"I know, I know, I wasn't exactly planning for all of this to happen," says Vecchio. "There's no way we're taking it back to my house, though."

"No, that would definitely raise a few more questions than I think any of us would care to answer," agrees Fraser. They're just standing there having this normal-sounding conversation, and Ray would really like to contribute, he would, but Vecchio tightens his grip and it feels like he's pinned to the wall even though nobody else is touching him anywhere, it's like he's stuck there and he can barely breathe.

"Don't even say a word about your truck," Vecchio's saying.

"No, that would be a gross violation of the health code."

"Not to mention that I don't think we'd all fit."

"I-" says Ray, and has to stop and swallow and try again. "I have an apartment."

Both of them turn. Vecchio takes his hand away, and Ray just barely stops himself from whining.

"Well, why didn't you say so? Why are we doing this in a kindergarten classroom, of all places?"

"I think the classroom was your idea."

"Yeah, after you tried to undress me in the hallway."

Fraser clears his throat.

Oops. Sex before arguing, right.

"Well, let's go," says Vecchio, starting to button his shirt again. Ray really, really hates himself for what he's about to do, but there's no way around it.

"Can't," he says. "I have to prep."

"Really?" says Vecchio, and hey, there's the first sign of a break in his composure.

"I do as well, I'm afraid," says Fraser.

"No prep means no food tomorrow, no food means no profit, no profit means no paying the rent on that apartment where I was maybe gonna blow Fraser and then let you fuck me."

"Jesus, Kowalski," says Vecchio, sounding faint, but Ray barely registers it because Fraser's pressing him back into the wall- what is it with these two and walls?- and kissing him, and hey, that's their first kiss, and it's not slow at all.

"Prep," Ray says when they break apart.

"Prep," repeats Fraser, looking like it takes all his willpower to step away. Ray tries to zip his jeans back up, but it's, uh, really not happening. Vecchio laughs at him.

"How about I finish up the peppers you were working on while you take a minute," he suggests. "I don't mind helping if it gets us all out of here faster."

"Until I get there, sure," Ray says, "but you are not allowed to chop vegetables anywhere near me, okay?"

"I'm not even gonna ask," says Vecchio, but Fraser gives him a sympathetic look. Fraser understands.

Fraser is also looking pretty unruffled- he's wearing his stupid Crepe Café uniform and neither of them even got to wrinkle it, that's not fair- so he follows Vecchio back out to the cafeteria. Ray stands there in the empty classroom and tries to think unsexy thoughts, but after five minutes he gives it up as a lost cause. He's too riled up; even the weirdness of the room isn't getting to him anymore. Plus he can't wait forever, he has to get out there and finish his prep so that he can drag Fraser and Vecchio home with him. Maybe he can get Vecchio to give him instructions on sucking Fraser off. He's never done it before, but he wants to try. Actually, he's not sure Vecchio's ever done it before either, but somehow he gets the impression that Vecchio would maybe be okay giving instructions anyway.

So yeah, that's the story of how Ray jerks off in an empty kindergarten classroom at nine-thirty on a Wednesday evening. Not one of his proudest moments.

They can both tell he's done it, too; Fraser takes one look at him and blushes hard, and Vecchio just cracks up.

"Thought you said it was creepy in there," he mutters as Ray walks by. Ray elbows him in the side.

"I'm blaming you," he says. "Hey, you got any more pineapple ice left?"

"Yeah, a bunch, why?"

"I spilled mine," Ray tells him, "but you should give me some more. It's definitely a pineapple kind of day."


End file.
